


White Lines

by Fuil_agus_deora



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Addiction, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, kind of an alternate universe, sex?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuil_agus_deora/pseuds/Fuil_agus_deora
Summary: David never wanted to be in this situation, but he would do anything to keep the demons at bay.





	White Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! So this is just a oneshot, don't expect a second chapter. I don't love it but I had the idea in my head.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated! I also enjoy answering comments, and it’s fun to read what other people think. 
> 
> Please don’t hate me.
> 
> Also, song is:   
> Low Man’s Lyric by Metallica.

It’s been days since he’s had a fix. 

He had to keep his nose clean for days at a time for monthly testing. If they caught him, he could lose his job. Or his family. Or both. 

Needless to say, he was itching and restless, and extremely anxious. Craving for a release.

Currently, however, he was hunched over the toilet in his bathroom, vomiting greenish bile. His body was shaking and he was gagging on the fluid. His throat burned. He finally stopped, sighing softly in relief and leaning against the wall. He was covered in sweat. He glanced at his phone, receiving a text from Vicky. 

_Take the kids to school today?_

He was about to respond when he felt his stomach lurch, and he began his monthly morning routine again. 

Going cold turkey was certainly fun. 

After dropping the kids at school, he traveled to work. He was positioned at his usual station, monitoring the space. Julia Montague passed by him on her way to the conference room, the lovestruck Rob Macdonald at her heels like a little dog, yapping away. The Home Secretary and her PPO exchanged a quick glance, and then everything returned to normal. 

When the meeting ended, the familiar clinking of her heels approached him, and the two made their way to the elevator.

The doors closed, and her hazel eyes drifted to him. "Are you alright, Sergeant Budd?"

He stared straight ahead, not locking eyes. He suspected he probably looked like a disaster. "Yes, ma'am. And you?"

He either did a decent job convincing her or she just gave up. "Fine." 

"All clear, ma'am." He had told her after checking every room in her flat. 

Julia looked up from her phone. "Thank you, PS Budd." She grabbed her briefcase and walked further into her home, peeling off her coat after setting the briefcase down on the table. 

David took that as his cue to leave, but his principal called out to him. He turned.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She asked, concern laced in her expression. 

"Absolutely, ma'am. Have a good night." Those were his parting words. 

When David got home after testing, he changed into jeans and an old, tattered hoodie. He stepped out into the brisk London air, starting to walk. 

He passed by Julia Montague's flat, and promptly lifted up his hood so the officer at her door wouldn't recognize him. He ignored any calls from Vicky and turned off his phone. 

After trading money for substances, he stopped by Andy's peace group or whatever the fuck it was on his way to his flat. He had no interest in it, but he needed to talk to a military buddy. Andy was in the middle of a speech, not noticing David at first. 

An hour later, the two men sat on the bench, both drinking beers. 

"So... What are you doing now?"

“Police.”

“Doing what?”

"Specialist protection." David retorted halfheartedly, kind of distracted by his beer. 

"Government ministers. You're protecting those wankers now?" Andy sounded like he was in disbelief. “You come here and tell me this shit? You’ve got a fucking nerve, mate.” 

David nodded, and the conversation continued. 

He was home again, the sky darkening. The telly was on, simply background noise.

Staring at the bottle of pills that were resting on the table in front of him. 

Julia had an interview earlier today, and Chanel had stupidly managed to spill coffee on her blouse. So, David did what any sane person would do: removed his jacket and took off his button down shirt, offering it to the woman. 

Julia had accepted the shirt with a quiet “thank you,” connecting her eyes with his. 

“Just tuck it in your pants, ma’am.” He informed her, moving back to his position, his back facing her as he slipped his suit jacket on.

Julia shot an annoyed glare at Rob. “Can I have a little privacy?” The aide stuttered and left the room momentarily. Julia turned to Chanel. “And you, fuck off and go commission a new shirt for Sergeant Budd.” 

And now here he was, home. He continued to stare at his relief, his coping method. He never wanted to explain what the war did to him. He never wanted to accept it. It kept the gunfire out of sight, out of mind. 

He reached out, grasping his fingers around the bottle and twisting the cap, pouring some of the pills out onto the table. 

There was a reason he didn’t use needles. Needles left tiny smatterings of scars, and he had enough scars already. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

He grabbed his boot and brought it down onto the surface hard, aiming for the tablets. They were reduced to powder. 

The veteran pulled out a pound from his wallet, scraping the powder together into lines. He rolled up the pound and leaned closer, falling back into hell after days of being clean. 

He leaned back on the sofa, impatiently waiting for the buzz and his withdrawal to fuck off. White residue remained on the table. His eyes made contact with Julia’s face on the telly. 

Finally it kicked in, and Julia’s voice was all he could focus on. 

_”...That doesn’t require apologizing for the past.”_

He grabbed the remote and rewinded it.

_”...Doesn’t require apologizing for the past._

Rewind. 

_”...Apologizing for the past._

Rewind.

_”...The past.”_

_”How do you reckon she’d feel if she got a taste?”_

_”Taste of what?”_

_”Suffering the consequences.”_

Thornton Circus.

An absolute horror.

And it was orchestrated by Andy.

Julia was frightened, shivering and meek, as the bullets destroyed the outside of the car. He’d never seen her like this before. They had grown closer since their first introduction, exchanging friendly banter and sarcastic comments amongst each other.

Julia was completely different in the company of a trusted colleague, not as stiff and commanding. It reminded him that she was human. 

“It’s okay, ma’am.” David had reassured her, holding her blood-soaked hand. “It’s okay...”

He had confronted Andy on the rooftop, not expecting him at all. He was furious, his rifle aimed at his former friend. 

Andy pulled out his pistol.

David’s eyes widened. “Don’t...”

“Someone’s gotta stop her. Get it done.” A bang.

David also never expected to be in the Home Secretary’s hotel room at the Blackwood. Never expected her soft lips on his. Never expected to be stumbling to her bedroom. Never expected to be undressing her, her teeth biting down gently on his bottom lip as delightful noises erupted from her mouth.

What a tease. 

He was moved into the hotel room next to hers, his room a closet compared to her suite. He removed his jacket and ear monitor. He took out the bottle from his pocket. He was about to open it, but decided against it, placing it in a drawer. He grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge, taking a swing of liquor.

He felt guilty for not telling anyone he knew the Thornton Circus sniper. He felt guilty for Sampson and Craddok’s orders to eavesdrop on the politician in the room next to his.

David sighed and walked to the door that separated their rooms, putting the beer down. He heard a click, and observed the door handle turning.

Julia stood in front of him, and for a moment, they both stood still.

The PPO neared her slowly, like she was a wild animal. He leaned in, pleased to find out that she was meeting him halfway. Their kiss became heated, and they moved to her room, David pinning her against a desk. Breathing frienzied, and his hands pulled down her trousers, Julia kicking them off when they fell to her ankles. 

She pushed his white button down shirt off his shoulders, almost tearing the buttons off. Her hands unbuckled his belt and zipped down his fly. 

Right after he removed her underwear quickly, and as he was positioning her, she started to speak. “My job, your job, it just complicates everything.” Her posh voice was breathy, dripping with need. Her legs were wrapped around his lower half.

She let out a gasp when she sunk down onto him, closing her eyes. 

“Nothing complicates my job.” He lifted his hips up roughly, eliciting a moan from her. “It’s to protect you.”

Her fingertips traced his scars. “Do they hurt?”

“Not anymore.” He responded softly. They were on their sides, their legs tangled together. 

He appreciated every crease on her face, and the way her lips tightly pursed when thinking, strands of brown hair sticking to her forehead.

They chatted about life, about the war, about family, about the circumstances that brought them to each other. They smiled, genuine, and giggled like they’ve had an inside joke for years. 

_”I’m one of the lucky ones.”_

_”Because you survived?”_

_”Aye, that too.”_

_____ _

David was awake, looking vacantly at the ceiling. Julia was asleep by his side.

Sure, she was addictive. However, he wasn’t quite satisfied. One thing was missing, and the gunfire was haunting him again. Paranoid thoughts invaded his brain. Ragged breathing filled his lungs.

He quietly got up from her bed and crept to his room, opening the drawer and taking out the bottle. 

While he was opening Pandora’s box, or rather bottle, he heard a rustle of sheets. “David...?” 

Shit. Julia was up. 

He hurriedly poured a couple of pills into his palm and popped them into his mouth. Not his chosen method, but he couldn’t risk Julia finding out.

Julia appeared in the doorway, resting her hands on the door frame. “What are you doing?” 

“Just taking pain meds for a headache. I’ll be fine.” He turned to face her. Technically, he wasn’t lying, just telling a small sliver of the truth. 

“Come back to bed.” She purred, making sure he got a good glimpse of her nude figure in the dark.

He smirked and followed, his blue eyes never breaking away. 

He had returned to his own bed reluctantly in the morning, getting dressed. 

Once he was done, he exited his room. He knocked and opened the door to Julia’s. She entered the hallway and he allowed her to lead.

“Sleep well?” She asked. 

“Yes, ma’am. And you?” He responded, mentally amused at their sneaking around.

“Yes, thank you.”

Upon entering the lobby, they met with another protection officer. She sighed. “I’m sorry, I just have to use the loo.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have any female officers, ma’am.” The officer replied.

“I’ll go.” David offered, and followed the Home Secretary to the ladies’ restroom.

He opened the door and looked around. “Police! Is anyone in here?” He waited a couple seconds and let Julia by, closing the door after.

Julia grasped him by the lapels of his suit jacket and pushed him up against the door, smiling slightly and kissing him sweetly. “I know you’ll never let anything bad happen to me.” She then pulled away and let go. 

As Julia entered a stall, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He hardly recognized himself, with his somewhat sunken cheeks and tired eyes. 

It had taken a toll on him.

It was killing him, slowly but surely.

Kim noticed his appearance. “Skip, didn’t sleep well?” 

“Afraid not. The bed’s uncomfortable.”

“Shame.” The woman said. “You’d think a hotel like that would give you a decent bed.” 

David laughed in agreement.

David was eating dinner when his phone made a sound, diverting his attention. It was a voicemail from Vicky.

_“Dave, please. I’m worried about you. Get help.”_

Vicky was one of the few who knew about his traumatized state and heroin addiction. Hell, she’s come to his aid before when he accidentally overdosed, way back when he was using needles.

But she didn’t know that he was back on drugs. She just thought that his PTSD was getting worse, which in a way, it was. 

He bit his lip, wondering how to respond. Should he just say that he was fine? Or something else entirely? Or should he change the topic? 

He started typing.

_How are Ella and Charlie today?_


End file.
